


dropped off the edge again

by yellowwarbler



Series: Free Use [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Grooming, M/M, Medical Procedures, Misgendering, Object Insertion, Trans Tim Drake, Vaginal Fingering, womb penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowwarbler/pseuds/yellowwarbler
Summary: Bruce always has Tim's best interests at heart.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne
Series: Free Use [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2205963
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	dropped off the edge again

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place sometime during Tim's third year as Robin pre-Flashpoint. Tim is trans and uses the terms front hole and dick for his genitals. The sketchy misgendering is all on Bruce's part as he uses female terminology for Tim.

"There's been another breakout," Bruce informs Tim. His jaw is set in a grim line. "Arkham. Most of the inmates have gone to ground, but Poison Ivy's on the move in a _very_ public way. She's planning on targeting the university tonight. We've only got six hours to prepare."

Tim grimaces. He hates dealing with Ivy. "I'll suit up," he says, already turning toward the lockers. "And then--"

Bruce grabs his arm. "Not yet. I need to administer the anti-toxin." 

"You already did," Tim reminds him. "Unless you think it's been altered?" Bruce's grip on his arm is tight. Tim's going nowhere.

"The current vaccine has proven...unsuitable." The frown deepens. "We can't risk either of us not being fully protected. We've had too many close calls."

Tim thinks of their last run in with Ivy. He'd broken his gas mask during the fight, and Bruce had to pull him out of there to save him. Ivy escaped. His face burns at the reminder. "You're right." He pushes his sleeve up.

"This is different. Head to med bay. I'll be right there "

Med bay? But Bruce isn't offering any further explanation. Tim can't read anything of his expression either. "All right," he says, taking a step back. Then he turns away.

Alfred is up in the Manor tonight, dealing with something for the upcoming charity benefit. He's usually the one to administer any medication or inoculation Bruce sees fit, but tonight the med bay is dark and quiet. Tim flips on the overhead lights and sits on the edge of the cot.

"You'll need to strip." Bruce steps into the med bay, wheeling a cart in. "Just the bottom half. You can leave your top on."

Tim gapes at him. "What? Why the heck do you need me to do _that_?" 

"It's a vaginal suppository," Bruce informs him with clinical detachment. "This new anti-toxin is based on an individual's sex hormones. Ordinarily, your testosterone levels would put you in the male category, but your ovaries are still present. We'll have to do this based on your body as it is, Tim."

Nothing that just came out of Bruce's mouth does Tim like the sound of. "So where did you have to shove it?" he snaps back, mortified.

"It was a simpler process," Bruce admits. "But if you're not capable of this, go home. I can't afford any mistakes tonight."

At that, the fight in Tim withers and dies. Bruce is right. He's being selfish. "Sorry," he mutters, kicking off his shoes and unzipping his jeans. Bruce busies himself with the tray while Tim pulls off his underwear as well. He leaves his clothes in a pile, kicking it under the cot before climbing on, his legs pressed tightly together.

God, how _humiliating_. Kon better never catch wind of this…

"I can do it myself," he blurts when he sees Bruce snap on a pair of rubber gloves. "Seriously, Bruce, I don't need any help!"

"You won't be able to place it correctly." He puts his hands on Tim's knees, squeezing them reassuringly. "There's nothing to be ashamed about, Tim. I'll be quick."

Ashamed? Tim hasn't gotten to that particular emotion yet. He's still stuck on mortification. But he knows when to shut up and follow orders. He's been Robin for three years. The instinct is deeply ingrained in him. So he lets Bruce part his legs, flinching when the cold air of the cave hits his front hole. 

"Lay back," Bruce advises, reaching to grab something from the tray. "You might experience some discomfort. That's normal. Just breathe through it."

Tim tilts back until his head rests on the cot. He wishes he had his domino on if only for something to hide behind.

The first touch makes him jolt. "Tim," Bruce says, a warning in his tone.

"Sorry," Tim mutters. He closes his eyes. 

A slick finger touches his front hole, rubbing up and down the seam of it before pushing inside. He tenses on reflex and winces. 

"Relax," Bruce orders.

Tim focuses on his breathing. _The sooner you relax, the sooner this will be over_ , he tells himself. His body slowly goes limp.

Bruce pushes the finger in deeper. 

It's a strange feeling. Tim's never bothered with his front hole before. He didn't want to, only ever needed to rub himself off. But Bruce is forcing him to think about it. That thick finger slides in and out of him, loosening his hole. Then a second finger joins it. Tim lets out a surprised sound, and Bruce puts his other hand on Tim's thigh, stroking the sparsely haired skin. 

"I have to get you loose," Bruce says, plunging his fingers in and out of Tim, picking up speed. "I'll insert the suppository when you're sufficiently relaxed enough to take it." Then he slides his thumb up enough to rub at Tim's cock, sending a jolt of arousal racing through his body. Tim goes rigid, clamping down around Bruce's fingers.

"Don't," he blurts, half rising off the cot in a panic.

"Some arousal is necessary in order to fully relax your vaginal opening." As Bruce speaks, he rubs harder at Tim's dick. The tiny nub stiffens under the unexpected attention. "Don't be embarrassed. Stimulating your clitoris is the quickest way to proceed."

Tim feels his front hole getting wet. His hips are twitching into Bruce's hand, his hole sucking those big fingers deeper. He doesn't want to come in front of Bruce. He wants this to be over, to just get the stupid anti-toxin and pretend this never happened, but Bruce isn't letting up. Tim can feel himself start to spasm. "Bruce," he gasps, grabbing Bruce's wrist as his body shakes through his orgasm. Bruce fingers him through it, the wet squelching sounds horrifyingly loud in the silent cave. Finally, he goes limp on the cot. 

"You did so well," Bruce murmurs. His fingers are still inside Tim. "You're not as loose as I'd like, but this should be fine for now."

Tim, panting, can't bring himself to look at Bruce. He feels unexpectedly dirty and hates himself for it. Bruce would _never_ hurt him. He's trying to protect Tim! Tim just needs to be less squeamish. It's what everyone tells him. _Get over it_ , he orders himself. 

Bruce finally pulls his fingers out, but he holds Tim's thighs open. "Stay like that. This should just take a moment." 

Almost done. Almost done. Tim holds onto that thought as he lets his legs splay open, his wet hole slowly growing cool. When Bruce turns back, he has what looks like an egg in his hand. "What's that?" Tim asks, voice pitching high with fear.

"The suppository," Bruce says. "When I press it in, try to stay relaxed."

It's the size of a freaking egg! How is Tim supposed to stay relaxed? But Bruce offers no further advice. 

Tim feels the suppository against his hole followed by pressure. He keeps his eyes on Bruce, wide and unblinking, as Bruce pushes it inside. It's bigger than the fingers, _so_ much bigger. "Bruce," he whimpers, but Bruce doesn't stop. He pushes the suppository all the way in, Tim's body fighting him the entire way. Tim feels it slide deeper, deeper still, until Bruce has it pushed all the way to his cervix. 

"Hold still," Bruce growls.

Tim pants, fighting against the urge to clench down, to push it out. It can't go any further. Bruce needs to stop pushing. Why is he still pushing?

"You're still too tight," Bruce says, frowning. He looks disappointed.

"But it's in," Tim tries, fighting back tears. 

"It has to go deeper." Bruce taps his pubic area. "Past your cervix."

Tim feels the blood drain from his face. "No, there's no way! It won't fit!"

"It will. You just need to be sufficiently aroused." He pulls his fingers out of Tim with a wet slurp. "I was afraid of this."

Tim sits up, watching Bruce reach into the drawer beneath the tray on the rolling cart. He pulls out a rubber rod with a rounded blunt head. It looks like a dildo. But it can't be. 

"I know you must be embarrassed," Bruce says, "but this is necessary for the mission, Tim. Bear with it a little longer." He keeps saying that. _You must be embarrassed. Don't be ashamed._ Tim wishes he wouldn't. He knows he doesn't have Bruce's mental fortitude. He wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole, cot and all.

Bruce uses a little medical lubricant on the rubber shaft before sliding it into Tim. "I know it isn't easy," he sounds so gentle. "You're nearly there, Tim. Just think of the people you'll save." Then he clicks something on the base of the shaft, and Tim comes up off the table as it begins vibrating inside him. Bruce holds him down as he begins pistoning the dildo in and out of Tim's hole, hitting the suppository over and over, pushing it harder against his cervix. Tim writhes on the table, mouth open, drool trailing down his face. It's so much. It's _too much_. 

"Almost there," Bruce growls. "Take it, Tim, _take it_!" He shoves the dildo, and Tim feels something give. The dildo shoves the suppository into his womb, fucking it open. Tim shrieks as pain flares followed by intense pleasure. His cries turn into a drawn out moan, his hips rolling, fucking himself onto the dildo as he spasms and comes helplessly. 

It takes a few minutes for him to come down again, his hips twitching and hole fluttering around the dildo. Finally, Bruce pulls it out. Even without the dildo, Tim feels like he's gaping. And he feels _full_. He puts a hand on his belly, whimpering. He feels swollen.

"It will take an hour for the suppository to dissolve," Bruce says, snapping off his gloves. His back is to Tim as he cleans up the tray. "You'll stay home from school tomorrow. I need to monitor you for any side effects."

Side effects? Tim struggles to sit up. He can't close his legs. His front hole feels sore, and any pressure makes it simultaneously flare with pain and tingles of pleasure. "But tonight," he argues, "Ivy--"

"You'll be with me," Bruce cuts him off. "You'll be safe as long as you're with me." He still isn't looking at Tim. "Get dressed. I'll be suiting up."

Tim feels a twinge of something he doesn't understand. Why won't Bruce look at him? "B--"

Bruce doesn't turn around, but he does stop. "Relax, Tim," he says reassuringly. "I told you before. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." Then he's gone.

"Right," Tim mutters aloud, watching the space where Bruce stood. "Get over it, Tim." It was just a medical procedure. An invasive one, but a medical procedure nonetheless. There's nothing for him to be upset about, no reason for the gnawing discomfort holding court in his chest.

After all, who in the world could he trust more than Bruce?


End file.
